


A Series of Fic Previews and Teasers

by Sandshoes (TemporaryUniverse)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Ending, BAMF!Reid, Blake is wonderful, Blood and Gore, Child abductions, Choices, Established Relationship, Even more torture, Extreme amounts of torture, Flashbacks, Foster Care, Foyet is evil af, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, Hotch/Reid - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Mafias, Maximum Ride inspired, Non-canonical past, Not a Happy Story, One-Shots, Ransom, Rape, Reid gets hurt, Rossi/Reid friendship, Season 5 premier, Seriously tho, THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS, Team has wings, Teasers, Torture, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, William Reid is an Asshole, Witness Protection, but not a x-over, but not really, fic previews, graphic depictions of violence and rape, i think thats it, im sorry, kid!spencer, little bit, more hurt than comfort tho, more torture, so much whump, team as children, too many tags, wing!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemporaryUniverse/pseuds/Sandshoes
Summary: I have an abundance of unfinished fics and my muse seems to have abandoned me temporarily. Joy. Anyway, I thought I'd post some of them here and get some input on which ones I should continue to work on and which ones I should leave on the backburner for a while. Most of them contain graphic violence and/or descriptions of rape, and because of that I highly suggest that they not be read by those under 18.The fics (in order) are:Acquainted with the NightBad Things and Good PeopleLost Innocence (interim title)ProtectionEnd of the Line (interim title)Life is Not a Fairytale (interim title)Jason and the Dragon (interim title)Underestimated





	1. Aquainted with the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> It is inevitable that a hero will make enemies. For the BAU, this is especially true. Sometimes, those grievances return to exact their revenge, and the innocent will be caught in the crossfire. Spencer Reid finds himself targeted by someone looking to right a past wrong, and his friends and family are in danger. He may be forced to make a choice. To live or to die. To kill or to be killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Robert Frost's poem _Acquainted with the Night_  
>  Season 7. Sometime between "Closing Time" and "Profiling 101". Spoilers up to season 8.  
> Warnings: Graphic depictions of torture and violence. Gore, blood, death (but not major character). Rated M.  
> Working Word Count: 25,002

**Chapter 1: Late Night**

Day 1 ~ 11:18 pm  
**REID**  
Dr. Spencer Reid was an interesting man. He was 29, and had worked for the FBI as a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit since he was 21. He was a certifiable genius, with an IQ of 187 and three, nearly four, PhDs, brown hair, and dark hazel eyes. While his intelligence was high, his social skills were anything but, resulting in more than a few quite embarrassing situations.  
Currently, he was sitting at his desk, slowly sipping his overly-sugary coffee as he reviewed the paperwork he had just completed. He didn't really need to, he had memorized every word he had written thanks to his eidetic memory, but the young genius didn’t feel like going home. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, making it even messier as he gazed tiredly around the empty bullpen, everyone else had gone home for the night. Reid sighed and heard footsteps from somewhere on his right. He looked up as his unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, exited his office and began walking down the stairs towards the main area and Reid’s desk.  
Aaron Hotchner was tall, with dark hair and a perpetual frown on his face. He was known for his profiling work, but also for his serious attitude and his suits. Hotch always wore a suit and tie to work, but the only time Reid had seen him relaxed was when he was at home with his son, Jack. He was an imposing man, and when he got angry, it was terrifying, especially if you knew him, and knew that did not show his emotions very often.  
“Hey, Reid,” Hotch called, his voice strangely loud in the relative silence of the work area, “I didn’t realize you were still here.” He phrased his comment more like a question.  
“Just finishing some paperwork,” Reid replied in way of an answer.  
“You work too hard,” Hotch gave a rare smile as he met Reid’s eyes, but Reid could see still see the concern behind his joking expression.  
“And you don't?” Reid shot back, returning Hotch’s smile.  
“Are you going home soon?”  
Reid shrugged, “In a few minutes.” He stood up and transferred his messenger bag from the back of his chair to his shoulder.  
“Do you want me to give you a ride? I can wait.” There it was, Reid knew it was coming and he hated that question, it made him feel like he was being babied, like he was incapable of doing anything without supervision.  
He straightened some papers on his desk, avoiding Hotch’s gaze, “I'm alright, you go home to Jack, it's late.”  
The young genius looked back up at his superior’s stoic face, and saw that Hotch’s eyes were soft and sympathetic. “Okay. Don't stay too late.”  
Reid grinned slightly, “I won't. See you tomorrow.”  
“Goodnight, Reid.” Hotch turned and left the bullpen through the glass doors etched with the FBI emblem.  
Reid stayed at the office for a few more minutes after Hotch left, pouring out the rest of his now tepid drink, before he, too, exited the building.  
Outside, the air was cool and crisp, a light wind biting through his sweater. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the freshness, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. The young doctor walked down the sidewalk, heading for the subway station that would take him to his apartment. He wasn't outside much, work kept him busy, but fall was one of his favorite times of the year. He thought longingly of the large novel waiting to be read at home and smiled. Reading was another one of the things he enjoyed the most. He felt a sudden chill and shivered slightly, picking up his pace as the subway entrance came into view.  
A clattering noise startled him out of his own mind. Reid’s senses went on high alert, and he felt his heart rate speed up, adrenaline rushing through his veins.  
“Hello?” he called into the dark of an alleyway between two buildings where the noise had seemed to emanate from. Cautiously moving closer, he peered into the alley, but saw nothing, the darkness seemed heavy and threatening. After a minute of anxious searching, Reid turned away. Probably just a stray cat or something, he tried to convince himself, he was just being paranoid, but his overactive mind seemed to focus on the word 'something'. He shivered again, and couldn't tell if it was just from the cold or because he was scared. He shook himself and continued walking, although with a degree of apprehensiveness that wasn't present before.  
Reid had almost reached the station when he sensed something behind him, he tried to spin around, reaching into his bag and trying to find his gun, but a pair of hands were already wrapping themselves around him. One covered his mouth, preventing him from crying out, and the other held him tightly around his chest. He struggled, trying to gain freedom and yelled into the hand on his mouth, but whoever was holding him was much stronger and his voice was muffled.  
He felt a pinch on his arm and fought harder, managing to break free when he elbowed the man in the stomach.  
He spun to face his attacker, but only caught a glimpse of someone tall, wearing a dark hoodie and jeans. He grabbed at the syringe in his arm and yanked it out. He gasped for air, his panic and whatever drug he had just been injected with making him dizzy so that he stumbled and collapsed on the ground. The syringe was gone, but the damage had already been done. Reid tried to yell once more for help, but all that left his lips was a low, weak groan. Everything felt heavy and he couldn't move properly. He struggled to breathe as his vision began to turn black. He was dimly aware of heavy thud of boots next to his head, before he felt himself being lifted up off the ground, but he couldn't focus anymore. Loosing consciousness fast, he heard the man whisper into his ear, “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Reid,” and then the darkness claimed him.

 **UNSUB**  
The man smiled as he watched Dr. Reid walking down the sidewalk. Anger rose in him, but he quickly pushed it away. He couldn't afford to loose control now, this needed to be perfect. He started to move forward out of the alley, but his foot knocked a discarded soda can as he did so. He froze as the noise echoed around him, cursing silently as he glared down at the offending object. When he turned his eyes back upward he could see Dr. Reid peering into the narrow space. He flattened himself against a wall, willing himself not to move any further. The man held his breath as his target called a slightly timid, “Hello?”, and he begged the darkness to keep him hidden. He couldn't fail now, not now, he had spent too long preparing for this. He watched as Dr. Reid frowned before he began walking away, vanishing from the man’s sight. The man let out the breath he had been holding, and carefully stepped over the aluminum trash. He stepped out of the alley, watching as his target neared the subway station entrance. It was now or never.  
The stupid doctor didn't even realize he was in danger until it was too late. The man immensely enjoyed the struggle that Dr. Reid put up, and enjoyed it even more when the smaller man collapsed on the ground and went limp. He picked his target up, slightly surprised at how light he was, given how hard he had fought. He whispered into the smaller man’s ear, taunting him, he couldn't help it, everything had gone perfectly. Dr. Reid didn't even have any bruises, not yet anyways, though he would soon if everything went right.  
He carried Dr. Reid over to a dark blue van, that had, until now, been sitting innocently by the curb of the sidewalk, and placed him in the back, smiling slightly as he stared down at the young face for a couple of seconds. He managed to turn himself away from his prize, shutting the back doors and walking around the van to the drivers seat. He climbed in, feeling relieved, the first part of his mission was complete. We are going to have so much fun, the man mused, driving away with the unconscious doctor.

Day 2 ~ 6:00 am  
**HOTCH**  
Agent Hotchner arrived at the BAU headquarters early, as per usual. The team didn’t need to come in until at least 8:00 unless there was a case, but Hotch always arrived early in order to get ahead on his paperwork and make sure everything was ready for the day. Hotch didn't mind that there wasn't anyone else there, the peace and quiet was a good start to his day. He walked up the stairs to the platform outside his office, looking around at the empty desks and sighing slightly, before heading in to get started on his work.  
Some time later, with a start Hotch realized he had already been working for an hour, there was a knock on his door. He answered with a calm “Come in,” and looked up from his papers when a petite, blonde woman entered.  
“Good morning, JJ,” the unit chief stated. Agent Jennifer Jareau was a young and rather beautiful FBI profiler, and a member of Hotch’s team. Her pale golden hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she had a stack of official looking folders clutched in her arms. She looked slightly strained and Hotch was instantly on alert. JJ had first started working for the BAU as the Communications Liaison, in charge of choosing cases, and talking with the police departments, families of victims, and the press. She had recently been promoted to the status of profiler, where her reasoning, skill in hand-to-hand combat, and fierce, motherly nature had been vital to so many of the BAU’s cases.  
Hotch glanced at his watch, it was 7:00 which meant that the rest of the team wasn't there yet, and judging by the expression on JJ’s face, there was an Unsub to catch.  
“Is it bad?” He asked her.  
“Yeah. I've called in the team already,” JJ replied, her face masked as she thought about the horrors contained within the folders she carried.  
“Where?” Hotch sighed. He had been hoping to spend time with Jack and Beth later in the evening but now that looked impossible. He hated his job sometimes.  
“Actually, right here in Quantico,” JJ said, watching Hotch for a reaction as she handed him the case files. “I’ll be in the conference room,” she told him, before leaving the office so he could read through the files and be ready to brief the team when they arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for the preview. This fic started my voyage into the world of authorship, but I lost motivation a while ago. If enough interest is expressed in it, I might find the inspiration I need to get it done. I have most of it planned out, but the ending is a stubborn piece of the puzzle that I can't seem to make fit.  
> The format of each chapter will be the 3-POV like this one, I'm finding it fun to play with.  
> Anyway, I'm looking for an extra set of eyes that would be willing to read what I have so far and make suggestions. PM me if you're interested. Thank you and please review.


	2. Bad Things and Good People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> On a case, Morgan makes the worst decision of his life. The consequences may get him and Reid killed unless the team can find them in time. Even if they do, Morgan doubts that his best friend will ever recover. And he hates himself for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 2. After "Revelations" but before "No Way Out II". Contains spoilers up to then.  
>  **Warnings:** Contains graphic depictions of rape/non-con, torture, and violence. Some use of strong language. Case-fic. Rated E.  
>  Working Word Count: 12,148

“Reid, Prentiss, did you find anything at the crime scene?”  
"We're not sure, we'd like to wait for the coroner's report to make any conclusions, but he seems to be getting more presumptuous and more violent," Reid answered, going straight to his geographic profile still pinned to the board.  
“So he’s devolving.”  
“Looks that way,” Emily remarked drily. “Reid thinks that he might not like that the FBI were called in. He's definitely angry for some reason.”  
“I'm going to call Garcia, she might be able to find something new,” Reid mentioned, turning away from his map, having marked the latest dump site with a white pushpin. It was surrounded by eleven other pins of the same color, and twelve red, the locations of the last known whereabouts of the victims, and the places their bodies had been found. They were connected by a myriad of lines tangling over the paper streets. He reached for his phone, but suddenly froze. Hotch swore he could see the cogs turning in the genius’ brain. He didn’t have to be prompted this time.  
“I know where the Unsub lives,” He blurted out, launching right into an explanation. “The brain is adept at identifying patterns and will subconsciously attempt to create their own patterns which show in behavior. We’ve already established that he has a conscious system for the choosing of his victims, but the subconscious was not as obvious.” Prentiss raised an eyebrow, it had taken him half a week to figure out the first pattern and this one was harder?  
“Reid, point please,” Hotch interrupted with a stern glance. Now was not the time for a lecture.  
Reid paused, blinked and then grabbed his marker. He circled an area on his map, “Here. He lives here.” He drew another smaller circle somewhere else, “And this is where he works.”  
“Get Garcia on the phone. We can start to narrow down a list.”  
******  
A ding sounded, Reid picked up his phone and read off the address. “Turn left here.”  
Morgan flicked on the SUV’s sirens and made a sharp left turn, roaring off the highway. Ten minutes later, they skidded to a stop in front of a large house. Clambering out of the car, Morgan pulled out his own phone and called Hotch, “Hey, man, how far out are you?”  
“17 minutes away. Don't go in without backup.”  
Suddenly, both profilers heard a faint scream from inside the house. Reid’s alarmed gaze met Morgan’s.  
“Hotch, we don't have time to wait for backup.” He hung up, knowing Hotch would try to argue. He looked at Reid again. “I’ll go around back, you take the front.”  
“A-are you sure splitting up is a good idea?” Reid was vividly remembering the last time he had separated from his partner in the field.  
“We can't let Morris get away, just keep your radio on.” Morgan took off, sprinting around to the far end of the house. Reid drew in a deep breath to calm his nerves, pulled his gun out of his holster and approached the door. He tried the knob, and to his relief it wasn't locked, he didn't feel like kicking down a door right now. Morgan's tinny voice counted down from three through his earpiece. On one, he flung the door open and swung his gun up to the proper level. A quick sweep of the sitting room, and then he continued toward the rear of the house. He passed a bathroom and an office, clearing each one before he moved on. The next door opened to a set of stairs leading down into what Reid assumed was a basement. He informed Morgan, and learned that Morgan hadn't found anything yet.  
“I’m going down,” He said into the radio, then he started down the steps, moving slowly to avoid making too much noise, a tight grip on his gun. His heart was pounding by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. A woman who he assumed was Amy Ryder was seated on a sturdy table, her shins dangling off the edge. Her clothes were torn and her skin was bloody, she was covered in bruises and cuts. A knife was at her throat. Reid froze, his gun trained on the man behind her. He ignored the pleading and teary gaze of the redhead, and locked eyes with the murky browns of the Unsub.  
“Ian Morris, put the knife down,” Reid commanded in his most authoritative tone. Morris just smirked. Reid was about to demand again, when his comm crackled to life.  
“Reid! I found the Unsub. He's running, I'm in pursuit.” Reid’s brow furrowed in confusion. If Morris was in front of him with the victim, then who was Morgan chasing? He couldn't answer his friend, doing so would involve taking his hand off the trigger and his focus off the Unsub.  
Suddenly, he was distracted by sudden movement at the fringes of his vision. Startled, he spun around in that direction, ready to fire. He was tackled to the ground just as a gunshot echoed loudly through the room. His gun flew out of his hand and skittered across the floor. Reid scrambled toward it, but just as his fingers closed around the grip a boot came down on his wrist, effectively pining him and making him drop the gun. Reid let out a yelp before he was roughly yanked to his knees by his hair. His eyes shot open and he briefly wondered when he had closed them, the thought was quickly chased from his mind by the sight of Morris’ victorious grin. Amy was crying desperately, the knife still pressed to her throat. Reid knew what was going to happen a split second later.  
******  
“Morgan, leave it, that's not our biggest problem right now.”  
“So what do we do?” Morgan was having trouble focusing his thoughts into an order that made sense.  
“Right now, the best we can do is use the profile and convince them to let us go…”  
Morgan snorted at that, and muttered “Yeah, like that'll happen.”  
Reid continued like he hadn't heard the comment, “Or we can wait for the team to figure it out, and right now they're only looking for one Unsub.”  
That wiped the smirk from Morgan's face.  
“What about Amy?”   
“Dead. They slit her throat.” Reid whispered. Morgan could see the sadness and guilt that shone in Reid’s eyes.  
“Did you see anything that could help the team?”  
“Maybe, but even if I did, we can't exactly call them and tell them can we? They already took our phones, badges, and guns.”  
Morgan stayed silent, he didn't know how to answer.  
“Morgan, I don't want to die here.”  
The plea was heartbreaking, and once again, the child-like voice reminded Morgan of just how young his friend was.  
“Hey now, kid. We are not going to die here, you hear me? We have the best team of profilers out there looking for us and they already know who one of these bastards is. They'll find us.”  
“It just feels like Tobias again.” Reid whispered, his voice breaking near the end of his sentence. Morgan felt a surge of sympathy for the young man, but was unable to reply when at that moment, the door opened and three men entered the small space. Reid and Morgan got to their feet, Reid supporting himself heavily on the wall and Morgan subconsciously putting himself between the threat and his friend.  
“Kidnapping and assault of a federal agent is a serious crime, when my team catches you, you could go to prison for life. Or you could let us go and I'll put in a good word with the DA for you.” Morgan warned them.  
One of the men stared at Morgan for a couple of seconds, then began to laugh loudly. Morgan recognized him as the Unsub that they had already identified, Ian Morris. He noticed one of the younger two never took his gaze off of Reid. He wore an expression that Morgan had seen all too many times before when he was a teen at the youth center. Shit. Morgan felt a surge of fear for his friend.  
“Max, Andrew.” Morris gestured to the others and they both moved forward. Reid automatically backed into the wall despite the pain in his leg and Morgan fisted his hands, preparing to fight.  
“I don't care if you're the fucking president, Derek,” Morris sneered, mocking him, “If we get caught, we’ll be on death row anyway for killing fifteen people, we might as well have a little fun first, right, boys?” His two lackeys both grinned widely and nodded in agreement.  
When they were within arm’s reach, Morgan lunged forward, striking the first, a rather large and heavily muscled man with military-cut chestnut hair, across his jaw. He stumbled back, but almost immediately, the other Unsub landed a hit of his own on the side of Morgan’s skull. Stunned, the agent crashed to the floor.  
Dimly, he heard Reid screaming his name, but he was too dazed to answer. His vision was blurred and everything seemed distant. He was only barely aware of two pairs of hands grabbing his arms and dragging him through the doorway.  
Reid watched helplessly as the men pulled his best friend out of the room, Morris stood aside, letting the other men pass by him. Reid had started forward while Morgan had been fighting against Max and Andrew, ready to help, but Morris had pulled out a gun, Reid's gun, and now had it pointed at Reid’s chest. If he moved, he wouldn't be able to help Morgan at all.  
“What are you going to do to him?” Reid pleaded. Morris’ lips curved upward in an amused smirk.  
“Shouldn't you know that Spencer? I assume you've read the reports after all.” He jeered, before stepping into the hallway and slamming the door shut. Reid heard the lock click, the sound draining his hope instantly. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes but he stubbornly held them back. He could feel himself begin to panic, so he limped over to the wall and slid down it. His leg throbbed and he winced and straightened it out, barely managing to keep from screaming at the pain.  
The gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in, he was stuck in a locked room, badly injured, and three sadistic Unsubs were doing who-knew-what to his best friend. Reid struggled to take a breath, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall. After just a few minutes, actually five minutes and 42 seconds if he wanted to be exact, the lock clicked again and the door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While in order, the scenes above are not the complete story. There is context before, between, and after. I was trying to give an idea of the fic without completely spoiling it.  
> Thank you, and please review.


	3. Lost Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> The BAU is called in on a case in Las Vegas, Nevada. Young boys have been going missing and they must race to save the latest victim. But when they find him, they are in for a surprise. A thirteen year old genius by the name of Spencer Reid. She knows she shouldn't, but Blake can't help but become attached to the boy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 8. No major spoilers. AU. The only change is that Reid is 13 and (obviously) isn't on the team.  
>  **Warnings:** Implied/referenced underage rape/non-con. Child abuse. Child deaths. Rated M.  
>  Working Word Count: 14,786

**Prologue  
Las Vegas, Nevada  
Laurelwood Park  
Friday, April 12th, 2013  
5:35 pm (EST) 2:35 pm (PST)**

“Ty! Hey, Tyler!”  
The 14 year-old turned on the sidewalk at the sound of his name.  
“What is it, Ryan?” He huffed exasperatedly.  
“Mum says we’re supposed to go straight home after school. She’ll get mad.” The younger boy pouted up at his brother from under the rim of his baseball cap.  
“Cindy says you have to go straight home, I can go play with my friends. Besides, she’s at work today, she won't know if you’re home or not.” The older boy brushed a stray strand of blond hair back under his skateboard helmet.  
“But–”  
“You can either walk home by yourself, or I can let you have a go on my board if you come with me,” Tyler interrupted, adjusting his grip on the skateboard he was carrying.  
“Really?” The younger brother’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.  
“Yeah, you comin’ or not?” Tyler turned and continued on his original path when his brother nodded enthusiastically.  
“C’mon, everyone’s waiting for me.” The older boy grinned at the excited smile lighting up his brother’s face.  
“Sweet. Thanks, Ty!” Ryan shouted, hurrying after his brother.  
The two boys rushed to the park. When they reached it, Tyler unfastened his helmet and replaced it on his sibling’s head, clipping the buckle under his chin, before handing him the board. He watched Ryan kick off and followed his path around the park. Two familiar people entering the park drew his attention and he waved at them.  
“Hey, Adam! Hi, Matt!” He greeted them, then turned back to watch Ryan do a spectacular tumble off the skateboard and into the grass.  
“Ryan! Are you okay?!” He yelled, worry clear on his features. A split second later, his brother’s head popped up, laughing brightly. Tyler breathed a sigh of relief and made his way over to the younger boy.  
“Hey, kid. Matt and Adam are here, I need my board back.”  
“Sure, Ty, thanks for letting me ride.” Ryan stood up, a huge grass stain on his shirt and brushed himself off. Then he unbuckled the helmet and handed both that and the skateboard back to his sibling. They were joined by Tyler’s two friends, both carrying their own skateboards. Ryan grinned at them, and then made his way over to the swings to watch.  
20 minutes later, Ryan was growing restless, there wasn't much he could do without another person.  
“Hey, Ty? You guys almost done? I'm booored,” He complained. His older brother wheeled over to him.  
“I think we’ll be done in 10 minutes.”  
“Tyyyyy,” Ryan whined, “It's almost 3:00, Mum’ll be home in 10 minutes.”  
His brother sighed heavily, then reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He handed the key to the younger boy.  
“Here, how ‘bout you walk home? You'll get there before Cindy and I'll be there soon.”  
Ryan frowned, glanced over at the other two boys who were waiting impatiently for their friend, and then snatched the key.  
“Alright, but I'm not the one who gets in trouble if Mum finds out,” He warned grumpily.  
“She won't find out. See ya, Ryan,” Tyler replied. He let his skateboard clatter back to the ground, placed one foot on, and shoved off away from his younger sibling.  
Ryan watched him go, then spun around and began to head home. He had just reached the edge of the park when an arm reached out and grabbed him. Startled, he tried to scream, but a sweet-smelling cloth covered his mouth and nose, and everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is actually going somewhere. Slowly, but I am still actively working on it. I am also doing an insane amount of research and my browser history is probably looking rather dubious. Oh, well.  
> Thank you. Please review.


	4. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Reid has a secret. A very big, very dangerous secret. And it's about to come to light in the worst way possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in Season 5. Before "100". No major spoilers.  
>  **Warnings:** Violence. Uh. I think that's it actually. Wow. Rated T.  
>  Working Word Count: 2,053

“Are you really going to get him hurt just to keep a secret?” Reid swallowed heavily and bit his lip. A war was raging between logic and emotion inside his brain. The objective reasoning that he had relied so much on for most of his life was been defeated by his connection with his friend.  
“Reid. Spencer. It's okay,” Hotch uttered stoically. Reid wanted to scream at him, ‘No! It's not okay!’ But who would he rather betray? His father who left him when he was a kid, or his boss and friend who had known for the past eight years?  
“Please, don't hurt him,” Reid pleaded.  
“Does that mean you’ll tell?” The young genius remained silent and looked at his knees.  
“Hmmmm.” A flash of silver and sharp intake of breath had his eyes shooting up again. A knife blade was glinting dangerously near Hotch’s cheek. “I'll start cutting in five… four… three… two… o–”  
“Stop!” Reid yelled, surprising even himself, “I-I’m…” His voice broke so he took a deep, shaky breath, and continued, more quietly, “I'm Matthew. I'm Matthew Reese.”  
******  
**4 hours before**  
Reid flipped through the file in the backseat. The team was headed back to the hotel after finishing a case. They were in Pennsylvania, and had been investigating a series of brutal, ritualistic murders of young women. They had aided the local police in the capture of the Unsub, but it was too late for them to head back home to Quantico.  
Rossi was up front with Hotch. JJ was in the backseat with Reid, and had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Morgan and Emily had driven ahead so they could pick up some dinner for everyone. Reid sighed tiredly and closed his file. Hotch glanced in the rear view mirror to look back at the pair and raised one eyebrow. Reid shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. Rossi let out a loud snore and the two that weren't sleeping had to bite their lips to keep the laughs in.  
Hotch coasted the car to a stop at a red light. “Do you think they'll wake up before we get to the hotel?” He half-muttered.  
“Probably not. I don't think I've ever seen Rossi sleep in the car before,” Reid whispered back. The light turned green and Hotch accelerated through the intersection, he was about to reply when Reid screamed his name and a split second later a white pick-up truck rammed into the right side of the SUV with high force.  
Their ears were filled with the sound of crunching metal, glass shattering, and squealing tires. It was over in seconds, but time seemed to drag. Hotch groaned the seatbelt and airbag had shielded him from the brunt of the crash, but there were going to be some nasty bruises. He glanced around at the damage, Reid and JJ were staring at him with wide eyes, Reid had a small cut and a trickle of blood above his eyebrow, but JJ was seemingly unharmed. Rossi’s eyes were still shut despite the jolt of the impact. Hotch reached out to him and shook his shoulder, but the senior agent didn't react. He started to undo his seatbelt even as he spoke, “Is everyone alright?”  
“Yeah,” JJ answered, her voice higher pitched than normal. Reid also replied in the affirmative. “Rossi?” JJ asked.  
“He isn't waking up.” Hotch said, concern seeping into his words.  
“He was on the side of the impact, I think he may’ve hit his head pretty badly. He was leaning against the door,” Reid said. The injured profilers heard voices and footsteps from outside the car. Reid unbuckled himself. He moved to get out, grabbing his cane, but the door suddenly swung open violently and he was roughly grabbed and dragged out with a yelp, the cane clattering to the floor of the SUV. Hotch was immediately reaching for his gun, JJ a bit slower to react, but still doing the same. The climbed out of the vehicle quickly, guns held out the ready, but froze immediately. A terrified Reid was gripped in a chokehold, with a gun to his temple. Six other barrels, attached to various rifles or pistols, were directed at the other two agents.  
“Drop your weapons, agents, and step out of the car, or I will not hesitate to kill him.” JJ looked to Hotch, who reluctantly nodded at her and took his finger off the trigger. She did the same and they let their guns be taken from them.  
Their wrists were quickly bound behind their backs with zipties and the two profilers were shoved into the back of a large cargo van parked nearby. Minutes later, Reid and, a thankfully conscious but disoriented, Rossi were shoved in with them, zipties on their own wrists. Two of their attackers climbed in with them and one other got in the front. The van rumbled to life and drove away, leaving the crashed vehicles behind and heading towards a destination unknown to any of the captured agents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There isn't much here. It was mostly just a thought that I had to write down before I forgot it. I have a vague idea of where it's going, but the specifics aren't fully constructed.  
> As always, Thank you and please review.


	5. End of the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> Hotch and Reid thought that they had been appropriately discreet with their relationship. Not even the team knew, Reid was sure of it, the team knew how to profile, but so did he and Hotch. All it took was one disastrous evening for their fragile world to come crashing down around them. If only Reid hadn't decided to come over to Hotch's apartment that night after one of the hardest cases they'd had in years, maybe things would have turned out differently. But he had. And they hadn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set directly after the end of the Season 4 finale "To Hell and Back". Spoilers for seasons 4 and 5. Canon-divergent.  
> Some of the dialogue is straight from the episode. No copyright infringement intended.  
>  **Warnings:** Implied/referenced rape/non-con, violence, canonical character death. Rated M.  
>  Working Word Count: 2,003

Hotch tossed his bags on the chair by the door and made a beeline for the wet bar. Pouring himself a glass of scotch, he sighed heavily, trying to banish the images of hundreds of filthy shoes lined up on a tarp and the sound of pigs grunting in the background. As he lifted the tumbler to his lips to take his first sip, he became aware of another presence in his apartment. He wasn’t alone.  
The figure hidden in the shadows stepped forward into the glow of the lights, throwing their face into sharp relief. Or, what would have been their face. The intruder was wearing a ballistic mask, black to complement the rest of their outfit, a dark hoodie and jeans, and they were leveling a revolver directly at Hotch’s chest.  
Two thoughts flashed through Hotch’s mind in that instant. The first: George Foyet, aka the Boston Reaper was in his apartment. The second: Show no fear.  
Only his intimate knowledge of the profile, collected from many late nights in the office, pouring over everything related to The Reaper that he could get his hands on, kept him from flinching when the gun discharged loudly. The bullet left a hole in the wall behind him, as was intended. Hotch prayed that one of his neighbors would hear the shot and call the police.  
“Is this part of my profile; you can't show me fear?”  
“If you don’t see fear, maybe it’s because I’m not afraid of you.”  
“You said that like you actually meant it.”  
For days to come, Hotch would berate himself for not fighting harder. What happened next was his fault. He had let Foyet overpower him.  
He was lying on the floor, trying to force his body to cooperate. Foyet’s knee pressed into his chest and he moaned. He gasped when the blade of a knife first penetrated him. The pain was terrible and his jaw clenched reflexively to block the low scream that bubbled up into his throat. The Reaper paused to smirk at him before pulling the blade out agonizingly slowly, the torturous burn it caused nearly reaching the breaking point of Hotch’s resilience.  
The knife slipped out of Hotch’s abdomen fully, but almost as soon as it cleared the flesh, it was being plunged back in to his ribs. Again, Foyet prolonged the extraction of the sharp metal, it hurt more than when the knife had gone in.  
The fifth stab was interrupted by a rap on the door, a familiar, hesitant pattern. Hotch’s eyes went wide, for the first time a flash of fear crossed his features. Foyet raised an eyebrow.  
“Expecting visitors, Aaron?” He chuckled. Hotch wanted to deny it, wanted to shout out for the person at the door to run, but he couldn’t. His mouth was dry and the only sound he could make was a low groan. The sound of the lock clicking had Foyet rising off Hotch’s bloody chest, twirling his knife. He stepped away and blended into the shadows.  
“Aaron?” Reid opened the door and came in, placing his ever-present messenger bag next to Hotch’s go bag which was still on the chair. He quickly entered the code for the alarm to prevent it from going off. Reid called his name again, more concerned this time. Hotch could hear him walking towards the kitchen where he was lying. In three, two, one−  
“Aaron!” Reid rushed over to him and fell to his knees, hands frantically moving to assess the damage. He was babbling almost incoherently, fractured sentences about ‘call ambulance’ and ‘What happened?’ and ‘Oh my god’ spilling agitatedly out of his mouth. He froze when Hotch reached up with great effort and grabbed his wrist.  
“Foyet…” Hotch muttered, struggling to say more, to warn Reid of the danger. But the moment the younger agent had walked in to the apartment he had been doomed.  
“Well, look at this,” Foyet sneered, revealing himself. Reid spun around to look at him, immediately tensing at the sudden appearance of the threat. The Reaper was aiming a gun with one hand, in his other he held the knife, still dripping red. “Doctor Spencer Reid, come to join the party.” He drawled the word ‘doctor’, voice colored with disdain.  
“Foyet.” Reid responded, the name tasting bitter from the fear that he kept locked inside. He forced his expression to remain stoic, emulating Hotch’s unperturbable Unit Chief demeanor. A pair of handcuffs, standard law enforcement grade, were tossed by The Reaper and clattered to the ground right in front of him.  
“Put them on,” Foyet ordered, gesturing with the gun. Reid hesitated, he knew he should fight, but that could very easily get him killed, Foyet wasn’t bluffing. If Reid died… He shuddered to think what that would do to Hotch. It was easier than he thought it would be to reach out, snag the cuffs, and click them on to his wrists. He refused to look back at Hotch, instead watching as The Reaper walked up to him and rested the barrel of his revolver on his forehead. Reid stared straight ahead, his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was sure the other two men could hear it.  
He was unprepared for when the butt of the gun collided with his head and he was forced into unconsciousness. He heard Hotch shout in the brief moment it took before the darkness overcame him.  
Hotch watched helplessly as Reid was pistol-whipped hard enough to knock him out. Any movement on his part sent paralyzing jolts of pain through his entire body. Foyet dragged the limp Reid over to a corner and deposited him there before coming back over to the older agent.  
“They will kill you,” Hotch growled.  
“Don’t speak,” Foyet replied, completely disregarding the comment, “You lost a lot of blood, you’ll need your oxygen.” He paused and kneeled down over Hotch, positioning the tip of his knife on Hotch’s torso. “Do you know how much you have to study the human body to stab yourself repeatedly and not die? I don’t want to brag, but I’m somewhat of an expert. Do you want to see my scars?” Hotch twitched as the blade pierced him. Foyet left it sticking out of him, stood up, and pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion. The lack of clothing revealed numerous pale scars, standing out white and raised against the skin. The bare skin revealed was marred by thick lines of pink scar tissue, starkly raised against the background of pale flesh. “What do you think? You like ‘em? Yours are gonna look just the same.” He gestured to Reid, “His will, too.”  
Hotch’s heart jumped to his throats and he struggled to take a breath deep enough that he could protest. His mind was racing in frantic circles with one thought: “Not Spencer.” He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud until Foyet chuckled darkly.  
“Oh, Aaron,” he said, squatting down over him once again, “You're the one predicting my behavior. So, tell me, why wouldn't I?”  
Hotch attempted to talk and ended up coughing his lungs out, the sound thick and wet. The action sent a jolt of agony through his body, cutting off the next cough. When the fit had abated he tried again, “My team…” He was forced to trail off with a pained groan as Foyet jerked the knife out.  
“Your team,” the psychopath growled, “Your team didn't catch me until I wanted them to. You're not in charge, so don't be foolish.” Hotch couldn't help the grunt that escaped him at the next stab. “Now try to relax. Your body will go numb. And it goes in so much easier if you relax.” The change in Foyet’s breathing was audible, it turned shallow and excited, he was getting off on the pain he was inflicting, on the dominance he held over his victim. “The hard part is not passing out from the pain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen and read all of these fics where Foyet doesn't just stab Hotch that night. This is my take on it if Hotch and Reid were in an established relationship. I'm trying to keep it as non-graphic as possible, but we'll see how that goes. Please note that the case in Nameless, Faceless doesn't occur, I always thought it wasn't very reasonable anyway. (I mean, the local PD could have easily handled it on their own, they didn't need the help of a BAU team who had just finished a case like the pig farm case and were probably running on very little sleep. Most of the logic/profiling that happened wasn't even necessary or meaningful. Sorry for the mini-rant. I'll shut up now.)  
> Thank you and please review.


	6. Life is Not a Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> The only life Aaron has known for nineteen years is the inside of a lab as experimental avian specimen. The first of the model to survive past infancy. He had been followed by Derek, Emily, JJ and Penelope. But there's something different about Spencer. Dr. David Rossi seems to know, why else would he break them out? Now Aaron has to survive in the outside world, a world he has no intimate knowledge of. It will take strength, courage, and no small amount of luck to keep his flock safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely AU. No spoilers.  
>  **Warnings:** minor violence. Possibly some disturbing themes? Rated T.  
>  Working Word Count: 744

Aaron yawned widely and stretched his limbs out as much was possible in the cramped space. His wings fluttered behind his back, scraping against the bars of the cage when he ruffled them to align his feathers. The teenager rolled his head, causing his neck to crack loudly. He winced at the noise and sighed. The movements had soothed the ache somewhat, so he turned his attention to the cramp in his shoulder. Sleeping on a floor wasn’t great for his spine, if it was up to him, he would be spending his nights sprawled out on a soft mattress on a real bed, but, unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him. Not that he knew any different. He’d never actually seen a bed, only heard about them.  
The rustle of cloth and feathers to his left made him glance up. JJ was stirring. He waited while she went through the ritual motions of awakening before coughing lightly, making her look over. She smiled, yawned, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her fists. They weren’t allowed to talk, but their group had other ways of communication, primarily facial expressions. Aaron grinned back at her and then cocked his head. She nodded. Aaron relaxed and they sat in companionable silence for a while.  
A low grumble was the first indication that someone else was waking. Without even having to look in his direction, Aaron knew that it was Derek. The other boy hated mornings. He probably wouldn’t be fully coherent for at least ten more minutes. During that time, Penny and Emily arose and stretched. The three other teens were across from Aaron and JJ in their own cages.  
Aaron was the oldest of the five by ten months. He was nineteen. Legally an adult. Derek was next, recently eighteen, Emily only a month younger. Penny was fifteen, and JJ was the youngest of their oddball group at thirteen. The only reason they knew their birthdays at all were the charts that hung outside their cages. When they’d been taught to read, they kept each other updated on the contents of the papers of the person across from them. That was how Aaron knew that it was his turn for the standard evaluation today. Fantastic.  
As expected, the door to their room opened and a man in a white lab coat sauntered in, followed by a couple of the guards. His friends all gave him meaningful looks. Good luck, they said. Aaron prepared for them to unlock his cage and lead him out, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he was bypassed by the scientist and his surly entourage who stopped right in front of the empty cage, putting Aaron between them and JJ. The children exchanged confused glances.  
Some of their questions were answered with the entrance of another scientist, Dr. Gideon. With him was a small boy, whom he ushered into the cage. The door to the prison was locked behind him and Dr. Gideon hung up the clipboard with the newcomer’s chart. Then Dr. Gideon and the three other men left again. The entire operation had been completed in perfect silence.  
Aaron peered through the bars of his cage at the new arrival. The boy looked to be around ten years old. He had shaggy chestnut hair that hung in a curtain around his face, obscuring his other features. His wings kept fluttering nervously, tucked in close to his body. Aaron noticed that they were a beautiful brown, mottled so that the highlights shone brightly when the light hit them, revealing flecks of color in shades that Aaron had never known existed. His own wings were a dull black, the only variation coming from white bars on the tops.  
So entranced as he was by the other boy’s wings, he almost didn’t realize that a pair of hazel eyes were staring up at him. He blinked, startled, but then gave the boy a small smile. Emily coughed lightly and they both glanced over at her. She silently communicated with Aaron the new boy’s name. Spencer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Maximum Ride, but you don't have to have read the book to understand this (although if you want to read the book, I wouldn't be against that).  
> While I've done other AU fics before, nothing as far from canon as this. As such, I really don't know what I'm doing, and therefore this fic isn't high on my priority list. When it does get finished, I'll probably be posting under a different pen name.  
> Thank you. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


	7. Jason and the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> A long time ago, Jason Gideon made a decision. The Unsub they were hunting was elusive, too elusive. They had no leads, and could find no more victims. There were more urgent cases piling up, so Gideon recalled the team. Years later, the founder of the BAU had left it, and the ones he left behind are forced to pay the price for his mistakes. Rossi has twenty-four hours to find his old friend and prevent the unthinkable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when this is set yet, possibly somewhere in seasons 3 or 4.  
>  **Warnings:** Rape/non-con. Graphic torture/violence. Strong language. Rated E.  
>  Working Word Count: 2,275

Rossi scrolled through his emails, noting what needed his attention and ignoring those that didn’t, like he did every morning when he got in to work. The subject of one, on this typical day, seemed to stand out, piquing his curiosity, but also instilling a wariness. ‘Hello Agent Rossi’ it read. His cursor hovered over the icon for only a second before he pressed the left trigger of his mouse and opened the email.  
“Hello, Agent David Rossi,  
We have never personally met, I do not believe, but I have heard great things about the notorious founder of the Behavioral Analysis Unit and bestselling novelist. I hope you do not mind, but I would prefer not to fully introduce myself given the sensitivity of this interaction. You see, I happen to have something of yours, and I am requesting a trade of sorts. I am sorry I cannot be more specific, but again, I would not want this to be intercepted by a third party.  
I have included a link in this message that will allow you to converse with me more easily on a secure connection. I ask that you click on it. There will be consequences that you may not find particularly enjoyable if you choose not to.  
Sincerely,  
JD”  
Rossi’s gut was sinking with an increasingly bad feeling. He took a deep breath and opened the link attached to the email. It took him to a webpage with a live video playing. His stomach twisted into knots and he stared aghast at the images. He snapped out of the shock quickly and rushed to get Hotch.  
The unit chief was predictably in his office and glanced up at his old friend’s sudden entrance.  
“You need to gather the team.” Hotch saw the urgent expression on the senior agent’s face and didn’t bother to stop and ask why, simply grabbing the phone and dialing. Rossi, meanwhile, snatched his laptop from his office and began to set up in the round table room.  
“I couldn’t get a hold of Reid. Everyone else is on their way.” Hotch said, entering through the doorway. “What’s going on?”  
“I got an email a few minutes ago from someone who signed it JD. The message was less than friendly, to put it lightly. Polite, but definitely threatening. They sent me a link to a private website with a video feed. I don’t know a lot more than that, but I think the rest should wait until everyone else gets here.” The Unit Chief still looked dissatisfied, but relented.  
It took fewer than ten minutes for JJ, Morgan, Garcia, and Emily to arrive, they had all been on their way already when Hotch called them. Although he knew that he was worrying and confusing Hotch, Rossi started to fill the four agents in on the details. Thankfully, the younger man remained silent, but the question was clear on his face.  
The bubbly tech, unaware that anything was horrendously wrong, helped Rossi wirelessly connect his computer to the TV on the wall behind him, so that his screen was projected larger allowing everyone else to see.  
Once they had read the letter thoroughly and commented briefly on it, Rossi clicked on the link for the second time. Someone gasped, but Rossi missed who as he was too focused on the image. It was grainy black and white footage, but the subject was clear as day to the team of profilers. A young man, stripped naked, was hanging limply by his slender wrists from chains that appeared to be attached to the ceiling. The tips of his toes on his bare feet hardly brushed the ground, though he was quite tall. There were no indications of consciousness, and the only things he was wearing were a blindfold and a ball gag.  
“Is that…?”  
“Yeah,” Rossi answered the unfinished question reluctantly, voice weighted with emotion.  
“No. No no no no no. Not again, I can’t do this again. It isn’t him. It can’t be him,” Garcia denied vehemently. Hotch closed his eyes and averted his gaze from the screen, clenching his jaw. A slamming noise was heard as Morgan reacted the way he typically did, by abusing the wall nearest to himself with his fist. JJ and Emily were in stunned states of numbness, JJ had paled considerably, horror written in every feature of her face.  
“Ah, hello, BAU team.” Six pairs of eyes snapped to the monitor. A man had appeared in the video, looking directly at the camera, a smug grin dimpling his cheeks. “I figured you had gone to get the team when you signed off, David. No matter, it does not bother me.”  
“You bastard,” Morgan spat at him.  
“As I am not the extraordinary technical analyst known as Penelope, just installing this video connection was difficult for me, and I am afraid I can neither see nor hear you, which is why you should be receiving a package,” The man glanced at his watch, “about now, actually.”  
He was spot on with his timing, there was an abrupt rap on the door almost immediately. The mail clerk entered with a large envelope, which he handed to Hotch. The profiler opened it and slid out a cheap flip phone. On the screen, the man revealed his own phone and discreetly dialed a number. The device that Hotch was palming began to ring.  
The Unit Chief took a deep breath, knowing he had to control his emotions, and answered the call on speaker, keeping his intense gaze on the video link.  
“SSA Aaron Hotchner.”  
“Agent Hotchner, so good to hear your voice.” The voice echoed oddly through the speakers of the phone and the TV, lending an eerie tone to the words. Emily had to admonish Morgan with a stern glare when he opened his mouth to growl an inevitable mix of insults and expletives.  
“I’m afraid I cannot say likewise.” Hotch replied coldly, the ice in his voice making everyone shiver. The unknown man gave an audible sigh.  
“Is Agent Rossi there? I was hoping that he would be more agreeable, I find that quality makes for better conversation.” Rossi held his hand out for Hotch to be quiet and let the more experienced hostage negotiator take the lead. The younger man grudgingly allowed it.  
“I apologize for my colleague’s rudeness, sir.” A quick glance at said colleague relayed that he would rather cut off his own hand, if it weren’t for the need to not antagonize their Unsub. “Is there something I can do for you?”  
The man surprised them all when he burst out in a gruff laugh that continued to echo through the speaker for what seemed like a full thirty seconds. There was a dark note to the sound that set the team on edge. “So civil, Dave. How hard is it? To know that I hold the young Doctor Reid’s life in my hands and that you cannot do anything about it except pretend that you do not want to put a bullet through my brain. No matter. I am not here to taunt you, as delightful as it is.” Morgan snarled quietly in the background. “I am here to make a trade. Doctor Reid for Jason Gideon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wince* This one is likely going to be worse than Bad Things and Good People. I like to torture Reid, a lot. Have you noticed? Really? No? Alright then.  
> The title 'Jason and the Dragon' is a reference to Jason of the Argonauts, particularly the legend of the Golden Fleece. It seemed fitting. I think it still needs work though.  
> Backstory for this is mostly complete, I have an idea of where it's going. All that's left is to write it.  
> Thank you, please leave a review.


	8. Underestimated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary:  
> A series of one-shots exploring the relationship between Reid and Rossi. Some will be canonical, some will not, most will be fluffy angst. If that's a thing. There will be times when Reid confides in Rossi and times when Rossi asks advice from Reid. Really just a mosh pit of ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously set after Season 2. Probably major spoilers for most everything after that up to season 11.  
>  **Warnings:** Discussion of torture, drug abuse, non-canonical character past, PTSD, child abuse/underage/rape, character death, child death. Rated M.  
>  Working Word Count: 2,177

“You disgusting son of a bitch. You sold your own son into slavery. He trusted you, you were his father and you sold him. You’re despicable,” He snapped. The man protested angrily, but he refused to back down, “Shut up. Did you think I was done? Do you know what James was feeling when they raped him over and over again? He was scared, and he was in pain, and he was wondering where his Daddy was and why he wasn’t coming to save him. He was fifteen, you bastard, and you let that happen. You let them beat him and drug him into submission so that they could make money off of his living hell and you could pay off your debts. Have you ever been raped, Mr. Keenan? No? Well, I can tell you exactly what it feels like, I have interviewed hundreds of sexual assault victims, heard each one tell me the graphic details with these blank looks on their faces because they had to lock away their emotions in order to get through the first sentence without having a panic attack. It hurts, Mr. Keenan, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You have no idea what it’s like to be held down by a man twice your size and forcibly penetrated just for some sick fuck’s idea of a good time. Rape is the worst form of torture, especially for someone as young as your son, and you let it happen to him, you did that. And you know what the worst part is? Each time one man finished fucking your son and left, another came in to begin that torture again. James was in so much pain that he took his own life, but you, you took away his childhood, you took away his innocence, and you took away his chance of ever knowing what it feels like to be loved, all because you were a selfish, neglectful man who doesn’t deserve to be called a father.” John Keenan was left with his mouth gaping open in a perfect imitation of a fish. Similarly, the rest of the audience was also speechless, though most of them were hiding it better. Reid’s chest was heaving with suppressed emotion. His knuckles were paper white from how tightly his fists were clenched and his fingernails were digging little half-moon trenches into his palms. His shoulders were shaking and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. Rossi had never seen the kid like this before, it was scary.  
Another moment passed, Reid and John glaring at each other, and then the younger spun around and stalked off. Rossi heard a door slam somewhere in the building, shattering the frozen scene as everyone scattered, time resuming its natural passage, unaffected by the monumental occurrences that had just taken place. Rossi exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Then he went to find the distraught Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final preview is one of the potential one-shots. Another will probably be Reid telling Rossi about Hankel, and another about Rossi trying to deal with Carolyn's death.  
> Thank you. Please review.


End file.
